It's nice,
this being back.
Here,
my world can fill
with fairy dust and dreams
and music at 6:00 am.
The sharp edges of life
are softer somehow
as my words fall
softly,
softly, onto the waiting page.
These last days
( it seems )
have been spent avoiding the storm,
trying to hold our heads
upwards to the sky.
This week,
someone took the time
to tell me
I smelled beautiful,
like I just stepped out of the shower.
How precious ,
when kind words come.
Like swimming,
in stars
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Pretty misty stars